


Bloody Brilliant

by lime_green_stories



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: All sorts of standard bleak/dark stuff, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood and Gore, Endeavour Morse Needs a Hug, F/M, Killing, Max is LITERALLY INSANE, Murder, Not for the faint of heart, Serial Killers, and Thursday's a manipulative shit in this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26149597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lime_green_stories/pseuds/lime_green_stories
Summary: In a world where the Cowley group are a band of serial killers, how much blood can one man take?
Relationships: Endeavour Morse/Joan Thursday
Comments: 13
Kudos: 13





	1. Introduction

He knocked on the door. rap rap rap. 

He walked through the door. tap tap tap.

He creeped up the stairs. creak. creak. creak. 

He fired his gun. boom. boom. boom.

This is a story of manipulation, murder, and mystery. 

This is Bloody Brilliant.


	2. Wishful Drinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morse (badly) copes with death and his line of work

Endeavour Morse walked into the building. This building looked like an old, abandoned warehouse on the outside. No one coming, no one going…on the inside, it was dimly lit. But don’t let the darkness deceive you, there were still people milling about, as if it were an office building. The people weren’t hauling paper and typing reports, however. They were discussing the right way to stab a man quickly and make a minimal amount of noise.

He set the pistol down on an ebony-wood table and ran his hand through his hair, sighing. He felt a tap on his shoulder from behind, and saw Peter Jakes, a sly smile spread across his face. 

“Well?” He asked, expectantly.

“What?” Morse replied, tired and a little confused. What did he want?

“Did you make the kill?” 

“Do you think I’d be here if I hadn’t?”

“Fair enough. You should go report to Thursday,” Jakes said, grin still present on his mug.

“Yeah, yeah, I know how this operates by now,” Morse replied, exasperated.

Jakes stepped out of his way, allowing Morse to head to Thursday’s office. He knocked on the door, and heard ‘Come in.’ When he opened the door, he saw Fred Thursday sitting in his wooden swivel chair, smoking his pipe, and sharpening his trademark dagger. The blade in question was curved, with a black hilt. The man looked up and set his dagger down.

“Hello there,” he greeted Morse with a nod, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. He sat down, and looked at Thursday.

“Well? What did you need?” 

“I did it, sir.”

“I see. Well, I’ll mark him off. Robert Baker, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, there you go. You should get some rest tonight, Bright’ll have another assignment for you tomorrow,” he instructed.

Morse nodded and left the office. He walked out of the dingy warehouse and headed to the nearby pub. He ordered a scotch, neat. As he waited for his drink, he noticed someone he knew. 

Doctor Max DeBryn.

He was a doctor in the loosest sense, only called that for his work with chemistry and poison. See, a doctor is supposed to help people. He did the exact opposite. But what was DeBryn doing here? He didn’t even know he WENT to pubs, so the doctor was probably here on business.  
The shorter man noticed him, grinned, and walked over. 

“Hello there, Morse!” DeBryn exclaimed.

“Doctor DeBryn,” he replied. He gestured to the seat next to him, which the man took. Morse noticed that DeBryn had a pair of gloves on.

“So, what brings you here?” The doctor inquired.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Ah, you know me. Business as always. Don’t look now, but I think that good sir over there might find his drink…not quite to his taste.”

Sure enough, as the man took a sip, his content expression turned to one of shock. Sweat appeared on his face, and he held his hand to his mouth. He rushed to the bar’s restroom, and well, you can imagine what happened there. 

“Monkshood. With the amount I gave him, he’ll most likely live another ten minutes at the most. Well, I should get going. Lovely talking to you, Morse,” DeBryn said. He stood up and left the pub.

Morse downed his scotch and ordered another. All the death…he sometimes wondered one thing.

How the hell did he get himself into this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First full chapter! Please leave kudos (if you liked it) and review!
> 
> (also should I add a ship or two if so I don't know which ones)


	3. Earn The Right To Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morse frantically calls Thursday for advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me so long to write this chapter!

Morse began to panic. No, no, no! He couldn’t be thinking thoughts of doubt! He was doing the right thing, wasn’t he? Wasn’t that what Thursday told him, some years ago? Oh God, he needed to talk to someone. But who could he go to? The only person he could think of that wasn’t completely insane and actually liked him was Thursday himself. God, he hoped he wouldn’t get himself in trouble…

He guzzled his scotch, paid his tab, and left the pub. As he walked home, rain fell onto his curly sandy-red hair, making it damp and droopy. He opened the door to his flat, and turned on the light, illuminating the plain space. 

Morse took his coat off and threw it on the back of a chair, then sat on his bed with his head in his hands. He peeked at the phone, sitting innocently at his bedside table. Morse took a deep breath, picked the receiver up, and dialled Thursday’s number. 

R-r-ring.

R-r-ring.

R-r-ring.

Morse was so anxious he was ready to hang up, but then he heard a reply.

“Hello?” 

Finally. He answered.

“Sir?”

“Morse? It’s midnight, for God’s sake! What do you need?”

“Sir, I...I have to ask you something.”

“Fire away, Morse.”

He paused. He didn’t know what to say. How would he tell Thursday he’d been having doubts?

“Morse?”

He took a deep breath to steel himself, and then spoke again.

“Sir, I…are you sure that this is the right thing to do?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean with all the killing…are you sure that this is right?”

“Of course it is. We’re removing the liars and cheats from the world, one hit at a time.”

“…I see.”

“Don’t tell me you’re doubting your duty, Morse. You can’t back out now, remember when I recruited you? You were so eager back then…where did that light go?”

He was right, of course. How could he have even doubted he was doing the right thing? He used to be so smart, but he supposed his great brain sometimes led him astray.

Morse thanked Thursday for the advice, and hung up. The drinks had started to make him feel drowsy, and he knew that Bright would have another assignment for him in the morning, so for once he went to bed with a new burning fire of passion lit inside him.

A passion for murder.


	4. The Clock Stopped Ticking (Flashback)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to when Morse first got involved with the serial killer gang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize that it took me so long to get this out! I had a lot of schoolwork, and I didn't have any motivation. Once again, my apologies. 
> 
> Without further ado, here's the next chapter of Bloody Brilliant!

It was a cool, breezy November afternoon. Endeavour Morse was walking back to his dorm from the last class of the day, which happened to be philosophy. He got to the door and noticed an envelope on the carpeted floor in front of said door. Morse frowned and picked it up. He turned it around. It was addressed to him, with ‘E. Morse’ written in a scrawl. Still frowning, he went into his dorm.

The dorm was sparsely furnished, only holding the necessities: a bed (which was more like an army cot), a desk (which held a typewriter and a record player), a chair, a coat rack, a crate of records, and a small bookshelf, which held his schoolbooks and the books he read for pleasure. He put his coat on the rack, and, still looking at the letter, headed to his desk. 

He put Rosalind Calloway on the record player, sat in his chair, and opened the letter. The handwriting was quick and informal, but legible. It read:

Mr. Endeavour Morse,

We have been watching you for some time. We have decided that you are suitable for our line of work. Meet me in the alleyway behind The Legion at 11:00 this evening,

Signed, F. Thursday

Morse began to panic. Who has been watching me? What ‘line of work’? Who is ‘F. Thursday’? What does this mean?

{Time skip brought to you by Thursday and Company. Getting rid of all your problems, one silencer at a time!}

Morse quietly put on his coat and slipped out of his dorm. Walking down the hallway, he was careful not to make a sound, so as to not wake any of his fellow students. He could see some lights still on underneath the doors, signaling that some students were studying late into the night. As soon as he left the building, the cold evening air hit him like a wall. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, headed toward The Legion. 

As he approached, he saw people inside, cheerful and laughing. A stark contrast to his gloomy disposition. Morse stared at the happy scene inside for a long time, so long that someone tapped him on the shoulder and asked him if he was okay. He turned around to face the person, and assured them that he was okay. They left, glancing back once at Morse, then disappearing into the night.

Morse took a deep breath, and went behind The Legion. There, he saw a man standing in the shadows, who spoke to him from the darkness.

’Ah, there you are. I’ve been waiting.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Please leave kudos and a comment if so! 
> 
> Thank you for reading. Stay curious and don't forget to love yourself!
> 
> -Lane (lime_green_stories)


End file.
